


Am I a fool for falling for this

by crookedspoon



Series: SladeRobin Week [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, F/M, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Sex, POV Jason Todd, Role Reversal, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: He should have known that dating the principal's daughter would be tempting fate.





	Am I a fool for falling for this

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 3 "Teacher/Student" at sladerobinweek and Day 18 "Role Reversal" at kinktober2018.
> 
> Would you look at that? This is my 500th work posted to AO3. Woo. ETA: I originally posted this story as the first chapter of a longer story, but given the nature of what's to come, I have since decided to leave it as a standalone and make it part of a series instead. More notes on the bottom.

Detention is a fucking waste of time. He's already finished most of his homework by the time the minute hand's crossed the half-hour mark – chemistry and math was a piece of cake but his reading in English lit, usually his favorite subject, proves to be a challenge. He can't seem to concentrate, reading every word twice as the ticking seconds seem to grow louder. His mind is slipping between the lines into memories of the evening before.

It's not even been a day since then, but it feels like a lifetime.

His lips still tingle with Rose's breath on them and his skin is cold and bare without her touch. He can't wait to get his phone back to be able to call her and tell her he misses her. Not because of what she said, but because that's what he truly feels. His thoughts are filled with her, making it difficult to focus when she's not around.

And maybe he's acting like a lovesick fool, but he doesn't care. Perhaps that is his problem. He won't stop at nothing where his girlfriend is concerned. Detention holds no terror for him. He'd even risk being expelled if it meant he could protect her in any way.

Jason's eyes grow hazy as he submerges himself in the pleasant pastime of weaving anticipation into experience. He's imagining meeting up with Rose again tonight, to kiss her and hold her and — to help with her trig homework, of course. He's not at all going _there_ yet.

"I think I'm ready," she'd said after a particularly breath-taking kiss, "to have sex, I mean."

Fortunately, he could hide the pathetic whine that was building in the back of his throat. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop his dick from jumping in response. There's no way she didn't feel that, too.

"You sure?" he'd asked, so turned on his voice nearly gave out.

_Step it up, Todd. If you can't even keep it together when she so much as mentions the possibility of sex, how are you ever going to make it through the first act?_

"I mean," he rejoined and cleared his throat, "I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything."

"I know, and that's so sweet of you, Jason." Her charmed laughter was music to his ears, but it didn't distract him from the hands sliding up his shirt. His grip on her waist tightened. "But I really do want this."

When her fingernails raked over his skin, he felt a brief desire to cast away his restraint and buck up into her, to let his hands squeeze her breasts and tease her nipples, because fuck, he loves that sting.

He almost can't wait for the next time they'll have some quiet moments alone, when tutoring turns to cuddling, cuddling to kissing, and kissing to something that more actively involves their hands.

Jason is about to construct examples of just how active their hands are going to be when the bell cuts him short. 

_Fuck._

He can't believe he wasted the latter part of his detention reliving his last intimate encounter with his girlfriend instead of preparing for tomorrow's classes. Jason very much hopes no one was able to identify the spaced-out look on his face. More importantly, he thinks as he moves to stand up and pack his bag, he hopes that no one noticed the very distinctive tent in his pants.

To think she's thrown his entire head in disarray with a mere handful of words. He used to be more in control than that.

Jason scrubs a hand over his mouth. He's pretty sure he wasn't drooling, but better safe than sorry. After gathering up his things, he walks awkwardly up to the desk in front, shielding the source of his shame from view with his bag.

The teacher in attendance – Mr Schuman from Economics – looks up the moment Jason reaches for his phone and says with his nasal monotone, "The principal wants to see you, Jason."

Jason casts a quick look around and curses inwardly. No other Jason in sight.

Great. As if his day hasn't been shitty enough.

He just nods and slips out of the classroom. As he does, he checks his text messages. His steps echo down the hallway as he walks further into the administrative tract while the others are walking the opposite direction towards freedom.

Sure enough, Rose has spammed his inbox, lamenting how unfair it was for him to be detained like a common delinquent when he should have been praised like the hero he was. Seriously, if he hadn't done what he did, Rose would have done it herself and _she_ wouldn't have been put into detention.

It's sweet of her to be indignant on his behalf, but it's also easy: she gets a free pass for everything because of her dad.

He texts back with a winky-face emoji and another that sticks out its tongue, and adds that he just got out but that he can't call right away. There's something he needs to take care of first.

Rose's replies are immediate and emotional, with an uppercase and drawn-out _what?_ that ends in too many interrobangs ("WHAAAT?!!?!?") and a slew of crying-face emojis. It strikes a funny contrast to her calmer demeanor in face-to-face interactions. 

Smiling stupidly to himself and focusing more on the messages that are filling his screen than on where he's going, Jason walks nose-first into a broad chest.

Jason curses and nearly drops his phone.

There are few things scarier than Principal Wilson, and Jason has yet to meet anything scarier than an annoyed Principal Wilson.

"Inside," he says simply, and yanks Jason by the ear.

Jason is pretty pissed-off at this repeat performance from a few weeks ago, when he'd been caught having a smoke behind the bleachers. Lesson learned, okay? No need to get handsy. It's bad enough Jason has to live through all the hugging and pinching and general ignoring of personal space when Dick is visiting from overseas.

This is no good. Thoughts of Dick always aggravate him and he can't have that when facing Wilson. You want every advantage you can get during the ultimate boss battle. Not that Jason is much of a gamer - who even has time for fun on his schedule? - but it sounded apt enough. Reminder: scary. And very much able to kill him academically, if he so chooses.

Physically too, perhaps.

Not for the first time, Jason admires the biceps that are straining the fabric of Wilson's dress shirt. That's another reason why Wilson is the scariest thing Jason ever encountered. He can handle Bruce's scary just fine because he's used to it, but Wilson throws him down a rabbit hole of never-ending sexuality crises. Jason never knows if he's already made it through to the other end or if he's still in denial about his attraction to his principal. Or oblivious to it.

But _fuck,_ he's hot. The way he commands Jason to "Sit" like he were nothing more than a mangy dog instead of offering him a seat like a normal person would gets to him. Jason would so love to reach out and wrap his hands around those guns or slide his hands over those hard pecs.

...Okay, so maybe Jason's more than a little compromised, catapulted from not thinking the least dirty thought about other boys to lusting after an authority figure. Not how you should be thinking about you girlfriend's father in the first place.

Jason uses the opportunity to sink into the chair closest to the door and place his bag on his lap. Perhaps not the most inconspicuous way to conceal the bulge in his pants, but effective nonetheless. 

"I'm disappointed in you, Jason."

_You and me both, pal. I'd say I'm sorry, it's never gonna happen again, but that would be a lie. All I can offer is: I'm sorry, I can't help it._

"It's bad enough I catch you smoking on school grounds, but getting into fights? We had an agreement."

Oh. _Oh,_ he's disappointed in _that._ Good thing Jason didn't verbalize his thoughts just now.

"I know," he says. First and foremost, Jason has an agreement with himself: one, that he would prove to anyone who doubts him what he's capable of; two, that he would make Bruce proud of him and not rue the day he took him in; and three, that he would never compromise, never back down. "But with all due respect, sir, I couldn't stand by idly when that scumbag was badmouthing your daughter."

Wilson had seated himself on the edge of his stately desk, arms crossed almost menacingly, his one eye staring down at Jason as if stripping his soul. But Jason could swear he detected a shift, as though Wilson softened just the tiniest bit toward him. He better.

"There are other ways to resolve conflict."

Jason wants to scoff, but Wilson's calm yet firm voice is doing things to him he's not entirely ready to assess yet.

"Is this going to be a lecture on my anger management issues?" _Careful, Jason, you're mouthing off again._ He's still not convinced he has any anger issues, but it's best not to talk back to your elders. Jason's learned that much at least. And he can't afford to antagonize Wilson. "I mean, I'm _handling_ them if that's what you're worried about."

"What I'm worried about, Jason, is my daughter."

"No harm came to her, I made sure of that."

Wilson gets off the desk and walks over to the windows. The blinds are drawn, allowing only slivers of sunlight to cast bright stripes along the walls and furniture. Wilson cuts a man-shaped silhouette into them. 

"What I'm trying to say," Wilson elaborates, with his back turned, "is that I don't know if I can continue to let her see you."

"Sir?" Jason asks, trying not to sound alarmed. Surely this has got to be a joke. Or at least a misunderstanding.

"You've been a good tutor, Jason. With your help, Rose has made tremendous progress and has been able to catch up on the subjects her mother had chosen to neglect."

Jason senses the 'but' coming and he doesn't like it.

Wilson turns around to face him again. "But the behavior you've displayed in recent weeks makes me questions your fitness as Rose's tutor."

Jason is confused. He's been nothing but a model student, consistently keeping both his athletic _and_ his academic achievements high – higher than Dick's used to be (suck on that, doofus) – and he's been volunteering what little free time he has to tutor kids who would otherwise be falling by the wayside. Sure, part of him does it for the glowing recommendations and how good it looks on his report card, but another part of him is aware of the opportunities education provides. No one should be missing out on that just because they can't afford it.

"I'm not sure I follow, sir. What behavior is that?" He can't seriously be holding the cigarettes he smokes to de-stress against him as an incorrigible vice.

"You abused your position as Rose's peer and teacher to become intimate with her," Wilson says, slowly walking around his desk toward Jason.

Hearing Wilson frame it that way is like watching a bomb drop. Jason gulps. He didn't, did he? It was Rose who kissed him first and they're so close in age, he never considered there could be any power imbalance going on. It's not like he's grading her or anything.

But beneath the shock, there's something else: it comes as a relief to learn that Wilson knows and probably has known about them all along. It's not that it had been their intention of hiding their budding relationship or anything, but for some reason Jason wanted them both to be sure about it going forward before making any hasty announcements they might regret later. And Rose, for her part, didn't want her father to meddle. Jason could relate.

So they may have been sneaking around the tiniest bit. But not stealthily enough as it appears.

"You don't approve," Jason finds himself saying, staring resolutely in front of him.

 _What kind of question is that, dummy?_ As if any father would be happy about his daughter dating.

"I am merely concerned. About your integrity, shall we say." Wilson is standing at his back now, but Jason does not crane his neck to look at him.

Indignation is flaring up within him. What else does he have to do to prove that he is worthy?

"I respect your daughter very much, sir." Jason hates how groveling he sounds, but he has a point to drive home. Surely he can do that much. He doesn't want to think about how Rose would feel if he didn't manage to convince her father that he was serious about her. "I'd never do anything she doesn't want me to."

"That is reassuring to hear. However, I know boys your age. Control doesn't come easy to you."

Jason starts when Wilson's hand lands heavy on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. He can't help but crane his neck around now.

"I don't understand what you're getting at. I'm a black belt in judo and karate. I have honed my body to listen to my commands. I know how to control myself."

"That is precisely my point. You are trained in the art of combat, however gentle its supposed execution. Who or what is going to stop you if you lose that control?"

Jason is starting to get annoyed. If Wilson doesn't want him to see Rose anymore, he should just come out and say it, instead of beating around the bush with some pseudo-philosophical bullshit about control.

"Have you ever been intimate with anyone before, Jason?"

Jason's ears burn. Did he really just ask him what Jason thinks he did? "Huh?"

"Have you ever slept with someone?"

"What kind of question is that? I don't think you ought to be asking your students that."

"That's a no, then."

Jason flushes harder. So much for control. He wasn't even able to modulate his voice to not sound like a shrieking banshee.

Jason must be looking like a lost lamb, because when Wilson steps in front of him and cards his fingers through Jason's hair, his baritone is soft and soothing.

"Are you serious about my daughter?"

"Yes." Jason shivers, pins and needles cascading down his spine. "I am."

"Then I would like to show you what I mean and teach you about control."

Wilson's fingers trace the shell of Jason's ear. Jason's alarm bells are ringing from here to the manor, telling him to get out of here, but Jason – dumb kid that he is – chooses to ignore them. Surely nothing that feels so nice could be inappropriate?

Surely Wilson – the _principal_ – wouldn't be doing anything inappropriate.

Jason finds himself nodding. His bag tumbles from his lap, no longer offering protection from Wilson's prying eye.

"I need to hear you say it."

"Okay," Jason croaks. He's mortified at his own reactions, but tries not to let it show. After swallowing the lump in his throat, he says it again. "I'll do it."

"Good boy," Wilson says and the low rumble in his voice does something funny to Jason. "I want you to take it out."

Just in that moment, Jason's brain chooses to become aware of the fact that his face is level with Wilson's crotch. Surely he couldn't mean... "What?"

"You heard me," Wilson says again and twitches his hips. To be even more explicit, he takes Jason's hand and places it on top of his pressed trousers. Jason feels like he might explode from the sheer heat that suddenly suffuses his body.

"This is a really bad idea," Jason mumbles, but he's not actually doing the smart thing and leaving.

"You wanted me to show you."

"Maybe so, but I still don't get what this is about."

Wilson chuckles. "It's easy. Before I let you get any more intimate with my daughter, I want you to understand what it might be like for her."

Jason, curse his stupid mouth, can't stop himself from saying, "I can't be entirely sure, but I'm fairly certain Rose doesn't have a penis, so this entire thing is moot."

"Didn't you listen?" Wilson asks, amusement thick in his voice. "I want you to put yourself in my daughter's shoes."

"Oh. _Oh._ " Oh. Now might be a good time to burst into flames, Jason thinks. Failing that, he'd also welcome the ground to open up and swallow him. Otherwise, he'll have to pull through and he's not entirely sure he can do that.

Wilson is still tucked up neatly in his briefs but just patting him down tells Jason that there's some weight to it. Jason looks up, uncertain and, dare he say, afraid? He doesn't want to fuck this up. He doesn't want Wilson to think he can't handle this.

Despite the nature of their earlier talk, Wilson's expression is warm and encouraging, as are the fingers kneading the back of Jason's head.

With trembling fingers, Jason reaches for the fly in front of him and pulls the zipper down, tooth by tooth. He doesn't know if he intends it to be sexy or a manifestation of his nerves. Whatever it is, it seems to please Wilson, judging by the smirk that pulls at his lips.

Another pulse of heat shoots through Jason when he slips his hand inside and palms what appears to be a massive length. It's slowly filling out and making Jason's tactile senses swoon.

For a moment, Jason is appalled at himself for never once thinking _I can't believe this is happening,_ so when he gathers his courage to push through the slit of Wilson's briefs and touch his hot flesh, he thinks it just to appease himself: _I can't believe this is happening!_

And he really can't. The man might have flustered Jason with his mere presence and made him feel stranger than he had any right to, but so far Jason hasn't gone out of his way to have indecent thoughts about him. He'd only just started allowing himself to have indecent thoughts about Rose in the privacy of his own mind.

A sudden onslaught of giddy joy takes Jason by surprise when he pulls Wilson's cock out of its confines. He's only ever held Roy's junk in his hands but that was more of a juvenile sizing-up contest and had nothing on the charged situation Jason finds himself in now.

Wilson is huge and veiny and half-hard, and for some reason that last bit charms Jason, because he understands it as a reaction to him. Is Wilson turned on by him? 

Jason knows that old men are gross, but he's never thought of Wilson as particularly old, despite his white hair. He doesn't _look_ much older than Bruce and Bruce is barely old enough to be his legal guardian posing as his father figure.

"Go on," Wilson's deep voice startles Jason out of his thoughts.

Right. There's an enormous cock in front of him and... what exactly do you do with it? Jason tries to remember what the porn clips Roy showed him in an effort to be cool. In them, the actresses gobbled down the rods of the male talent like popsicles, but instead of paying attention to what they were doing, Jason kept wondering how much they were actually enjoying it. They appeared to like it, but how much of that was genuine and how much was faked for viewing pleasure? Jason couldn't watch any of it unless he knew for certain the women were enjoying themselves.

Now, however, challenged with this task in front of him, he berates himself for not taking pointers, even though he knows how irrational that is. As if he could have known he'd one day end up like this.

How naive he'd been.

Nothing to it then. He's just gotta learn by doing. How hard can it be?

 _Ho-ho-holy fuck,_ Jason thinks as brushes his fingers over the raised veins of Wilson's cock. _Very hard._

As Wilson grows harder, Jason grows bolder. He may not remember how they do it in porn, but he does know how he likes it himself. He can just go from there and see what lines up with Wilson's preferences. So he curls his fingers around the length and tugs at the skin with every downstroke. 

Encouraged by Wilson's deepening breath, Jason adds his tongue to the mix. It just came to him that he wants to know what Wilson tastes like. He licks his erection from base to tip, then sucks kisses onto it going the other direction and back again. He tastes of skin and a bit of sweat, all in all not too unpleasant. What is very pleasant, however, is feeling Wilson pulsate against his tongue.

It makes the desire well up in him to have Wilson in his mouth, so Jason follows it and greedily engulfs him. He can't fit much more than the head inside, to his great disappointment.

It doesn't seem to bother Wilson. He's rocking his hips against Jason, sliding across his tongue in small strokes, forward and back, leisurely as can be. His fingers play with Jason's hair, taking his mind off the crick in his neck or the tightness in his own pants.

Then, Wilson pushes in abruptly, stabbing the back of Jason's throat, and panic seizes Jason. He pulls off, coughing and spluttering and burning with shame. This has been so nice until now and Jason had to ruin it.

"Hey, watch it, okay?" he rasps, rubbing his throat.

Wilson, however, is unapologetic. "Do you see what I mean now, about control and the loss of it? I need you to be considerate when you're doing this yourself."

 _Fuck,_ Jason can't be thinking of Rose now. He's wanted all of his first times to be with her, and yet here he is, going down on her father before going down on her.

"Do you... want me to continue?" Jason asks tentatively when he's caught himself again. He doesn't know about the etiquette in this, but he knows that he hasn't had enough of Wilson's cock yet. It's spit-slick and shiny and Jason's salivating just thinking about it. He doesn't want to contemplate too closely what that makes him, as it would probably drive him insane.

"You've demonstrated enough," Wilson says and all Jason hears is his failure to satisfy him. He wonders when that became a point of pride for him. Is there something like a champion cocksucker contest? Not that it matters, since he clearly wouldn't make the prelims. Still, sometimes Jason is too competitive for his own good.

"So what now? Am I excused?" Jason doesn't think he could walk two feet on his wobbly legs but he's confident enough he might make it to the door, before he can let himself slide down the wall, safely out of Wilson's sight.

"I'm not done with you yet," Wilson says and Jason can't even begin to describe the thrill he felt at that. 

Maybe he's not so hopeless after all.

"You know how to use one of these?"

Jason's vision is not what it used to be, but he can reliably identify the square foil packet Wilson is holding up as a condom.

"I guess..." he says, uncertainty painting his features. It's not something you practice putting on every day.

"Show me," Wilson demands and flicks the packet into Jason's lap.

Jason picks it up and wills his trembling fingers into opening it. The stars seem to align and favor him in this instance at least, because the foil parts easily enough. Jason takes out the condom and unzips his fly, more than a little ecstatic to be freeing his clothed erection.

But Wilson stops him with a snip of his fingers, indicating that he should roll it onto his cock instead. By this time, Jason is too aroused to question that and does as he's told.

Once the condom is wrapping Wilson's cock snugly, Jason sheathes it in his mouth again.

Wilson groans and lets Jason suckle for a moment before pulling him off.

"I like that you're so eager, but this is not what I had in mind."

Jason is yanked out of the chair and pushed toward the desk. He moans when Wilson's hands brush Jason's aching hard-on as they rid him of his jeans and boxer shorts. Jason can barely suppress the sobs of relief when his hot flesh is finally exposed.

He's so hard he might burst at the faintest touch.

But Wilson doesn't touch him. Wilson pushes his shoulder blades down until his chest is flush with the desk and his cheeks can rest on the cool leather of his pad. He feels strangely secure like this, even with his ass bare and his dick hanging heavy and neglected between his legs.

Wilson massages his hips and thighs, nudging them farther apart. Moans continue dropping from Jason's mouth as though it's taken on a life of its own. But when he feels something cool and slick rub between his ass cheeks, he tenses up again.

"Woah," he says automatically, unsure if he can string together the necessary syllables to get his message across. "I wasn't gonna push for anal on the first date. I think we're good here."

Yet despite his words, he pushes against the intruding digit, welcoming it inside. _Fuck,_ Jason thinks. If one finger can make him feel this full, Wilson's cock is never going to fit. But fuck, he wants it, and he's not going to settle for less.

"You're doing good," Wilson murmurs and Jason's bones turn to goo. "That's it, just relax. There's a good boy."

Jason wants to yell that he's not some fucking dog you can teach tricks, but then Wilson hits something inside of him that makes his spine arch and his vision go white, all words forgotten. Jason can feel himself leaking, pre-ejaculate dripping to the polished floor.

Wilson is taking his time fingering Jason, and Jason is enjoying the hell out of it, grinning like a loon and drooling on the leather desk pad. He's looking forward to fingering Rose if she'd let him. Depending on whether she's into it, he might even let her finger him like this.

When Wilson is up to three fingers inside of him, Jason is an incoherent mess. He's shoving back against them, wanting them deeper, wanting _more,_ but not getting it. He moans and whines and twitches his hips, in the vain effort to tell Wilson what he needs.

Wilson has his own ideas. When Jason can barely take it anymore, he flips him on his back. Jason whines at the loss of fingers inside him but he doesn't have the energy to complain anymore. His glazed eyes stare up at the ceiling before slowly lowering like snowfall to settle upon Wilson's white head.

Wilson hooks Jason's legs over his arms and lifts the off the floor before Jason feels something nudge at his hole. Jason exhales shakily and tries to relax, but the anticipation he's felt since forever ago has his body go taut.

Wilson shushes him. "Just let go. That's it. You can do it. Make me proud, boy."

And Jason wants to, he wants nothing more than to take Wilson's enormous cock and make him proud. Jason shudders and melts and feels Wilson push inside.

"Aren't you beautiful?" Wilson continues to murmur as he strokes Jason's sides. "Just like your brother."

Wilson's cockhead breaches Jason the moment those words are uttered and Jason swallows his tongue.

Brother? Dick, probably, though never brother. (Jason is not giving him the satisfaction of dubbing him that ever.)

If Jason had more presence of mind, he'd resent Wilson for bringing up Dick at a time like this (or ever). Everyone is always cooing about how pretty and smart and accomplished he is, and how can Jason ever compare? He's built his _life_ around surpassing him. Around creating his own path.

He'd wanted this moment to be his and his alone, but now he has to share it with the memory of a guy he's supposed to think of as a brother but whom he can only consider his rival. One-sided, at that.

The spark of annoyance Dick produced is as brief as a hitch of breath. Next thing Jason knows is that his eyes are rolling in the back of his head as Wilson brushes over that spot inside him.

Jason is so full he doesn't think he can take any more, and yet Wilson continues to drive himself deeper. All Jason can do is breathe. Breathe and let go.

"That's a good boy, taking my cock so well."

Jason's breath hitches and a whine sits at the back of his throat, but won't come out. Wilson is driving him crazy. He feels tears sting the back of his eyes, tears of frustration rather than pain, because he's been high-strung for so long. 

"Please," he begs, not sure what he's asking for. His voice sounds high-pitched and feeble to his own ears, not like his voice at all. 

"You want more?" Wilson asks and Jason nods eagerly, not knowing what 'more' entails, but needing to answer in the affirmative all the same. Wilson smiles. "Very well."

Jason feels his hips be enveloped in a secure grip, providing him with a moment of warmth pooling low in his spine before Wilson slams himself inside the next.

Jason's back lifts off the desk and he _screams._ The pain is intense, but not nearly half as intense as the strange pleasure that swirls inside him as Wilson begins to move. He pulls back until nothing but the head remains sheathed, then glides all the way back in. It's easier now that he's carved a way inside, and Jason is trembling with every stroke.

He comes in no time at all, his orgasm all but wrung out of him, and under different circumstances he might have been embarrassed about how he didn't last longer. Under these circumstances, however, Jason doesn't have the presence of mind to feel anything but blissed out.

Wilson continues fucking into him, his zipper chafing Jason's sensitive skin. Jason can't tell how much time passes until he finishes too, having lost all concept of it.

Jason is reminded of the concept of legs when Wilson pulls out and sets them down.

Jason feels sore and empty, but also warm and content. It's a strange mixture he hasn't known before, hard to characterize as pleasant or unpleasant, as something he might want to experience again or not. 

Despite the awkwardness of his position, Jason is aware of the gravity of sleep pulling him under. He's tempted to give in. But the presence and its tapping around him makes it impossible. Jason gives himself another moment or two before taking a deep breath and trying to roll onto his side.

He winces. Every movement hurts. He's not sure how he's supposed to make it home like this. That he has to make it home goes without question.

"Can you stand?" Wilson asks as he offers him a hand in support.

Jason just nods, no caustic remarks on his tongue, and lets himself be pulled upright.

The ache in his ass is even worse like this, when he's standing on his own two feet again, but Jason tries not to let it show. He gingerly does his jeans back up and straightens his clothes.

Vaguely, he thinks he should be horrified this happened. But Jason's not right in the head. He feels a strange sense of accomplishment.

"We good now?" he asks, eying his bag on the floor and trying to figure out how to pick it up with the least amount of discomfort.

"For now," Wilson says. He appears all put together again, save for the light sheen of sweat covering his brow. "But remember, if you hurt my daughter, I'll make you regret it."

"Deal," Jason says and bends forward to grab his bag. Yeah, fuck, wrong choice. He blushes to realize he'll be feeling Wilson all the way home and probably for the next days to come. 

Jason feels utterly drained by the time he makes it outside. He doesn't even have the energy, much less the emotional bandwidth to check his text messages and call Rose.

Shit. 

He thinks he needs to be excused from school tomorrow. There's no way he can face her after what just happened. He'd ask himself what the hell he'd been thinking but it's clear he hadn't been thinking at all.

Except, all he'd been thinking of was Rose and how he didn't want her dad's disapproval to come between them. Jason may have earned his grudging approval now, but at what price? Will Jason still be able to look her in the eye without seeing her father rutting above him?

Better ban that image from his mind right away. It's too inappropriate to keep. 

And yet, Jason finds himself coming back to it later that night, cramming fingers up his abused ass, biting his pillow and reliving that absolute high of being _wanted._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Modern Love Affair" by Too Close To Touch.
> 
> Just fyi, the upcoming part of this series will come with themes that not everyone enjoys, so please consult [the series overview](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1171673) and check the tags of any follow-up story once they're there. If you're thinking about subscribing to the series but are trying to avoid certain things, feel free to contact me. I can be found on [dreamwidth](https://crookedspoon.dreamwidth.org/), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/crookedspoon), [tumblr](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/), and [twitter](https://twitter.com/crookedteaspoon). My email is also on my AO3 profile.


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